


Betrayal of a Sire

by oly_chic



Series: Prowl x Jazz Community 2020 Annual Challenge [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Family Issues, M/M, Secrets, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oly_chic/pseuds/oly_chic
Summary: When Jazz’s long-lost sire comes to visit while Jazz is gone, it’s up to Prowl to figure out what’s happening. What he discovers is worse than what he imagined.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Series: Prowl x Jazz Community 2020 Annual Challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929142
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48
Collections: ProwlxJazz Anniversary 2020





	Betrayal of a Sire

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Transformers.
> 
> This is for the P/J 2020 challenge from the Dreamwidth community. Prompts are taken from a bingo card row.
> 
> Prompt: “Betrayal”
> 
> Mega-orns = Months in TF time  
> Dataslug = IDW word for flashdrive/thumbdrive

As a student of the most prestigious Enforcer academy of Iacon, Prowl thought he should be doing something right now. The academy prided itself on its difficulty level with an all-consuming workload, and Prowl was not taking easy classes in his final mega-orns. Soon he would be working in a special investigation division, if he finished with the same grades he always received.

He tapped his stylus against the datapad with a complex entryway map drawn as he sat at his desk in the spare berthroom, looking at what was practically sparkling play for him. Besides making sure his homework was done, he also wanted to make sure he had everything completed so he could spend time with Jazz when his partner came back from work.

Jazz was usually in need of company when he returned, either because he was in an amorous mood or feeling more melancholy than he wanted known. Around others he was always the same, but in their shared apartment, he was honest with Prowl about his moods. He wasn’t honest about much else, but Prowl understood that Jazz had a job that required highest of classifications and Prowl didn’t qualify. So Prowl comforted or indulged Jazz as best he could for when Jazz did… something… at work that impacted his mood.

Lately Jazz had been a bit stressed but he couldn’t give any details. These were the orns it bugged Prowl that he didn’t even know who to curse for Jazz’s stress. Was it the High Counsel, Prime, or some other entity with power that lurked in the shadows?

A door chime interrupted Prowl’s thoughts. Who would be at the front door at this joor? It was the middle of the orn, when everyone was at work or in afternoon classes (although Prowl’s schedule was abnormally free this afternoon).

He commanded the front door to open only when he could look directly into the optics of whatever unknown mech was on the other side. When he saw the mech he found he were a total mystery, and yet something immediately nagged at him that there was a familiarity about him.

He had horn sensors like Jazz, but the standard Iaconian frame had a paint scheme with gold, blue, and grey. His guest’s optics were a violet-blue, but Prowl wasn’t as concerned about that as he was the constant shifting as the guest took in Prowl and the apartment.

“Is Jazz here?” the mech asked.

Prowl thought the mech rude but didn’t want to risk crossing someone who might be important. “He isn’t, but he’s expected soon. Do you wish to come inside?”

The optics shifted even more, darting around the apartment building’s hallway. “Maybe for a moment, if that’s all he’s going to take.”

“I can’t guarantee it’ll be a moment, but you are welcome to try waiting for him.” Prowl stepped away and walked to the kitchen of their open-concept home. “Please sit in the living room,” Prowl requested when the stranger entered and lingered. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m going to have something.” Prowl grabbed Jazz’s large cup and pretended to put some energon in it, ever mindful of the false bottom containing flash bombs. Just in case this rude mech who had yet to name himself was no friend of Jazz.

Prowl joined the mech in the living room but on the seat opposite of him. The mech was sitting as close to the door as he could, so Prowl sat near the door as well. “I’m Prowl. What’s your name?”

“Usually I’m called Gold.”

“That’s hardly a nickname. May I have your name?” he tried again.

“Gold is good,” he replied as he shifted again, glancing at the door.

“Alright. If you’ll indulge me in some small talk, I know only a few of Jazz’s friends. How do you know Jazz?”

“Just knew him some time ago.”

“Like last vorn, or back in his school orns?” Prowl prompted.

“Something like that.”

“Hmm, alright. What is it you do for work?”

“I’m a people person,” Gold answered. He still wasn’t truly looking at Prowl.

“I see. If you’ll pardon me, I just realized I need to grab something from my office. My schoolwork takes up much of my time.”

There was no answer and Prowl left with his back facing the stranger as little as possible. He and Jazz actually shared the office, although for Jazz is was more of a storage area of weapons and questionable objects. Prowl looked over Jazz’s messy side, trying to quickly decide what to grab, when his optics passed over an old photo of Jazz and his carrier, and his vigilant mind noted the crease at the end of the photo. The photo was so old it wasn’t a hologram, causing Jazz to fold it so it didn’t show the burned out face of his sire, who left when Jazz was old enough to remember him but young enough to still depend on his sire. He spited him for that.

That vigilant thought came back with a jolt. He _had_ seen that paint job and optics before now! There was one undamaged photo of Jazz’s sire he’d once seen, right before Jazz crumpled it up and threw it away with a sneer and no name.

Anger swelled and overcame his worry, and Prowl stormed the living room and got “Gold’s” immediate attention. Prowl demanded, “I know who you are, and I want to know why you’ve come back. Is it to hurt Jazz again?”

Gold’s optics widened and he jumped up. Wordlessly he turned to the door to make an escape but Prowl had been ready and threw a flash bomb in front of Gold. He closed his optics as it landed and wait less than a klik to open them again and saw Gold was disorientated and blind. Prowl rushed him and tackled him to the ground.

Whoever Gold was now, his recovery time from the flash bomb was incredibly fast and he was barely on the ground when he started fighting back. Just as Prowl thought he had the upper hand, Gold grabbed Prowl by the chevron, twisted it and yanked down so he could hold it long enough to punch Prowl in the face.

Prowl stumbled back from the strong hit, his chevron throbbing as much as his face, but he scrambled up. Unfortunately, Gold was faster. He was out the door before Prowl could throw another flash bomb. Prowl thought to give chase in the building’s hallway, but he thought twice of alerting the neighbors to the situation and let Gold go.

Returning to the kitchen, he grabbed frozen energon for his hurt face and chevron while returning the cup to its place. Jazz would be home soon, what should he tell him? Prowl sat at the dining table, holding the energon until everything calmed down. He checked his face and noted no visible injuries. At least there was less to upset Jazz when Prowl told him what happened.

Something bright moved passed the window and in the mirror Prowl could see a glint on the floor by the couch. He retrieved it and saw it was a simple black dataslug. It wasn’t his or Jazz’s, but it was in a spot it could have easily have landed during the fight. What secrets did it contain?

His first thought was to use his school equipment, but when he plugged it into his datapad for security work he was disappointed to see the decryption failed. Whatever this was, it must be important enough to warrant such sophisticated encryption. He should hand this off to Jazz, who likely had access to the equipment necessary for this. After all, if Prowl’s school had more advance decryption hardware inside its walls, then surely so did Jazz. He loathed to think of the conversation, ending it with handing Jazz unknown material that he couldn’t control. Would the contents hurt Jazz more?

He stayed in the living room with the dataslug tucked away, and waited until he heard the door unlock for Jazz to come through. “Good to see you’re alright, Jazz – are you alright?” he asked when he saw Jazz’s tired expression.

“Yeah, just a long, ugly orn again.” Jazz yawned and came up to Prowl and gave him a big hug. “So glad to see you. I needed something nice after what’s happened.”

Prowl didn’t bother asking for an explanation because he knew better, but the antsy feeling in his tank grew and kept him quiet.

Jazz looked at him and chuckled. “Long orn of homework got your tongue caught? I can help with that.”

Prowl couldn’t stop staring at the tired face trying so hard to make Prowl feel appreciated. His partner was in pain, based on what Prowl had learned about Jazz’s expressions and the hidden meanings behind his words. He couldn’t bring himself to add to it. “Yes, long orn of homework. Nothing worth mentioning, I’d rather get you energon and watch a vid with you.”

Jazz grinned. “Sounds good, my love.”

* * *

He hoped his school’s specialized decryption equipment was good enough as he plugged the secret dataslug into a console while pretending to do homework. The room wasn’t empty but he was in the back row of the lab and no one sat close enough to him to oversee his monitor.

After a long breem the equipment flashed a green screen. The dataslug was decrypted! In it were names and plans, so he checked the most recently access files. As he studied the files he realized what he was looking at: a terrorist threat to the High Counsel at their session tomorrow.

He sat back, shocked at the discovery that Jazz’s sire was carrying around a terrorist cell’s plans. Was he a terrorist or was he just in possession of one’s data? In his spark he knew the probable answer, but he searched through the names and associated photos to see if he could find proof.

There he is. Listed simply as “Bomber,” the picture was an exact match. Jazz’s sire was a terrorist.

What did he do with this information? Did Bomber have a role in the upcoming attack on the High Counsel? Immediately Prowl drove deep into the plans, trying to pull and analyze every detail. What he saw chilled him, but nothing like when Jazz’s name came up for targets. On the drawn-out plans there was even a spot where Jazz was supposed to be. Near it was Bomber’s location, and Prowl suddenly had a dreadful suspicion why, and it likely wasn’t because of their familiar relationship.

It all came back to what should he do with this information? Should he give it to a teaching Enforcer so the force could look into it, or should he give it directly to Jazz and confess his lie? Both had pros and cons, but as he thought about handing it to the Enforcers he was suddenly gripped with an image of Jazz being ousted and arrested for ties to terrorism. What would Jazz do with it? The struggle with his sire after he left had been hard on Jazz, so hard he burned out his sire’s face on old photos he decided to otherwise keep. Prowl couldn’t fathom hurting Jazz with this.

That left only one other option, and that was for Prowl to get involved. He needed to find Gold/Bomber and persuade him to not give into terrorism. There would be no way to find Bomber in advance so he would need to wait until Bomber was getting ready. There was also no one Prowl could tell or else Jazz’s future could be endangered, either from the terrorists attacking him or Jazz’s undercover work being found out.

After coming to terms with his decision, Prowl hid the dataslug and went to his final class of the orn. When he returned home with intentions to go to recharge early and not look at Jazz, they were ruined when Jazz greeted him at the door.

“Hello, my love,” Jazz purred as he nuzzled up to Prowl. “Shocked to see me?”

“Very. I wasn’t expecting you until late.”

“Me too, but a coworker took over my duties so I could see you before tomorrow’s activities.” Jazz pulled Prowl into the living room and cuddled up against him.

Prowl petted Jazz’s helm between his sensory horns. “My, you are feeling affectionate this orn.” That was more of a punch to the tank then he was willing to admit.

Jazz grinned. “Oh yeah, I need some affection. How about you?”

“Affection sounds good,” he replied with a smile that almost faltered. Prowl was the worst partner, he thought. At least if he succeeded with his plan tomorrow it wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

He remained hidden in the shadows of the darkened building overlooking the perimeter of the High Counsel meeting location. Any time now Bomber should be arriving at this spot.

It was the longest breems of his life but Bomber stepped out of the shadows near Prowl and began setting up what Prowl assumed to be an improvised explosive. He in-vented deeply. He had taken a course on talking down a suspect, but never done it – and this was no ordinary suspect.

“Don’t do this; think of what you’re doing to the surrounding innocent lives,” he firmly stated as he stepped out. Bomber whirled about and looked at Prowl. The student Enforcer swore he saw Bomber swallow as if nervous, and took that as a cue to press on. “It’s not just the High Counsel who will suffer. I know you know at least one other that will suffer, along with the many others.”

“Stop right there,” Bomber demanded. He stood up. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I couldn’t let you hurt others; I couldn’t let you hurt Jazz.” Make it personal.

“Stop! Get him!”

Prowl almost froze in shock but as soon as he heard steps he turned to face the threat. There were three others and they were slightly bigger and lot meaner looking. Prowl fought them and managed a decent defensive posture, until someone struck him on the back of the helm and he dropped. He nearly lost consciousness but stayed awake enough to feel himself get dragged and pinned in a standing position.

Prowl glared at Bomber, realizing it was him who hit him on the back of the helm. He really should know by now to be careful of Bomber, sire of Jazz or no sire. If anything, that fact probably made him more dangerous.

One of the ones holding him, a green and yellow one, told Bomber, “Keep going. Our teammate has a visual on Jazz but we need to get this moving.”

Another one holding him, green and blue, huffed. “What’s this one’s concern about you hurting Jazz?”

A look of dread flickered across Bomber’s face, but it was too fleeting. “I’m guessing they know each other.”

The first one grinned. “Should we make him watch Jazz die?”

Again, Bomber swallowed. “Let’s not focus on that. I’ve got this to focus on, and you’ll have your captured spy to work over later.”

The second one sneered at Prowl. “You should have left well enough alone. When Bomber here realized you were onto him, he arranged your demise.”

He could have responded, but instead he defiantly glared into Bomber’s optics. Jazz’s sire looked at him and then tore his optics away to complete his task of setting up what looked like one large explosive.

Without warning the green and yellow one cursed. “Slag! I can’t get a hold of some of our team.”

Prowl’s vents stalled. Did that mean anything for Jazz?

“I’m almost done,” Bomber reassured.

“Ahh!” One of his capturers yelled and crumbled to the ground, grabbing his ankle.

The other two threw Prowl to the floor and turned backwards. “I see him!” One said and Prowl turned around while remaining on the ground. Barely out of the shadows was a blur of a blue visor with white and black body paint.

Should he get involved? Jazz’s abrupt entrance seemed to have the upper hand as the other two fought him. He saw the crippled one try to get to Jazz, so Prowl kicked him in the injured ankle.

What happened next was disorientating when Prowl felt himself be grabbed. He heard, “Stop or I’ll kill him!” faster than realizing what had happened. He looked down and saw a knife to his energon line in his neck, held by a blue, gold, and grey hand.

Prowl immediately looked to Jazz, who had defeated his two opponents and had one unconscious in his hands when Bomber yelled his threat at Jazz. His partner was staring, but whether at what was unfolding in front of him or that it was his long-lost sire holding the knife to Prowl’s throat, Prowl wasn’t sure.

“Don’t do this, don’t be this way,” Jazz said in a low voice. “After everything you’ve done, you’d threaten to take him away as well?”

The one injured mech not unconscious groaned, and Prowl felt Bomber stiffen. Bomber snapped, “Not another word, unless it’s about surrendering and letting me complete my task.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Then you won’t have him any longer.”

Jazz’s visor darkened and he raged, “After everything you’ve done, you would do this too?! I have done nothing to you, but you have done everything to me!”

Prowl could feel Jazz’s pain from here and sorely wished there was something, anything, he could do to right this wrong.

“Stop talking or I’ll end – ” his sentence suddenly ended with a gargle and Prowl felt something wet and hot pour down his neck and back. The hand holding a knife fell and then a body slumped into Prowl’s. He jumped and felt the body slide down as he got away.

Prowl stared at Bomber’s lifeless body on the floor, energon bleeding out from his neck, and then looked up. There was a white and blue mech holding an energon-covered knife in front of him, his expression cool.

“Mirage!” He heard Jazz gasped. There were hands on Prowl and he saw Jazz looking him over before he dropped to his knees and checked over Bomber. “Mirage, I said to be invisible and destroy the bomb, not kill the bomb maker! Why did you do this? I could have handled it.”

The one called Mirage raised an optic ridge questioningly. “You needed help, and I will always help you. Who is this?” He turned to Prowl and Prowl realized Mirage heard what was said.

Jazz sharply in-vented and glanced in Prowl’s direction, but not at Prowl. “You need to go before the others get here. Now.”

“Jazz… You need – ”

“I said to get out!” Jazz yelled and threw his arm to point at the exit.

Prowl pressed his lips and nodded. Jazz probably didn’t see it since he wouldn’t look at Prowl anymore, and whatever was happening, Prowl knew he shouldn’t be there any longer. He fled.

* * *

He waited in their living room for three long joors, not knowing if Jazz would come back. It was almost unfathomable, the mess he had created. It all started with a simple lie, that nothing special had happened the orn when Jazz’s sire came to their home. Why did he come? Did he have a moment of crisis, knowing Jazz was a target? It was a moot point now, but Prowl couldn’t stop pondering many things, including that.

Finally the door opened and revealed a worn down Jazz. Prowl wanted to jump up and greet him, to beg for his forgiveness, but he did nothing. He let Jazz have the first word.

Jazz got closer but stop short of being within reach of Prowl. His visor was downcast the whole time, looking to the floor. “How did you know?” he quietly asked.

Prowl’s gaze fell to the floor in Jazz’s direction, unable to look at his partner as he confessed his actions. “Your sire came here two orns ago looking for you. When I realized who he was we had a scuffle, and he dropped a dataslug. I was able to decrypt it and find out the truth about the terrorist cell. I thought… I thought if I went to him then I could stop it and save you from pain.”

“Guess you got that wrong,” Jazz murmured. It was more quiet than sarcastic, almost forlorn.

“Do they know what happened? Does this Mirage know?”

“No… Mirage doesn’t know. No one but you knows what happened, beyond the terrorist cell we were stalking got taken down.”

Prowl winced. So Jazz had known he and the High Counsel were targets and played the terrorists. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, I figured.” The tone was still quiet, but now flat.

Prowl turned to look completely away from Jazz. “I realize now I betrayed you and it got your sire killed. If you want me to move out, I’ll understand.” The last words were said slowly and painfully.

Jazz walked over to the chair opposite of Prowl. “I thought about what to say when I drove over here. I tried to multitask during everything and come up with something earlier, but I never figured it out. Thought about almost everything, including some things I wish I didn’t think about. Among those were breaking up, knowing you knew something I should’ve known but you didn’t say.”

“I see.” Prowl’s vents faulted but he restarted them. “I’ll collect my things.”

He started walking to their room but as soon as he was within reach of Jazz, the mech reached out and brushed his fingers against Prowl’s arm to stop him. “I didn’t say I landed on that being the answer.”

“Then what?” Prowl’s vent halted again as he waited.

Jazz hesitated and then slowly looked Prowl in the optics. “I can’t quite forgive you, not right now. But I want to forgive you, and I can’t do that without you being here. I mean, I could forgive you eventually if you left, but I think the pain of you leaving would hurt too much.”

“You want to forgive me?” Prowl echoed, wanting to hold Jazz’s hand but he held back.

“I can tell that what you did you intended only goodness to come from it. That’s worth something, even if it feels like it’s not enough right now. And… and you are my partner. I don’t know how I could function without you being there for me when I have rough orns. Like now, like how on rough orns we’d cuddle and I could forget my troubles and focus on this. On you.”

Prowl finally ex-vented and let his hand slowly make its way to Jazz’s hand, moving so slow that Jazz could stop it or move away at any time. He didn’t and Prowl put his hand over Jazz’s. “What can I do for you?”

“Can we just cuddle and watch a vid? I really don’t think I can handle anything else right now.”

“Okay, Jazz, we can cuddle. We can cuddle for as long as you want.”

“Careful when you say that, I might not let you go.” Jazz twisted his hand around so he could grasp Prowl’s fingers and Prowl lightly squeezed. When Jazz squeezed back, Prowl knew they would eventually be okay, starting with a cuddle.


End file.
